


Comfort in Companionship

by Merfilly



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Charity Auctions, Established Relationship, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 16:58:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12657669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: Methos shows up after a fight, and Joe takes him home.





	Comfort in Companionship

**Author's Note:**

  * For [under_the_silk_tree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/under_the_silk_tree/gifts).



Joe was just closing up when Methos ducked inside, going straight for the locked liquor cabinet under the counter. Joe ignored him, even when the Immortal sprawled on the floor, unhelpfully in Joe's way, and drank from the bottle directly. Joe couldn't bring himself to say anything; Methos looked a bit mussed and more than a little distracting like that.

Joe also tried not to think on how much money was disappearing down Methos's throat with every swallow. They had a deal, which was the only reason Methos had a key. If he drained any of them, he had to replace them out of his own private stashes around the world. That was certainly profitable enough for Joe, and it worked will enough for him, and Duncan on the rare occasions when Duncan snagged a bottle.

"Should I be calling MacLeod to warn him?" Joe asked as he, with a little difficulty, stepped over Methos's sprawled legs. 

"He was with me. Handled it even," Methos said as he looked up at Joe. "Only halfway between us in age," he added with a black humor. Joe didn't sigh at him, just looked down as he wiped the counter.

"That Minoan you were worried about having possibly seen on your trip down to Marseilles?" Joe asked him, finishing with the counter on this side of the sprawled Immortal. He moved on to getting the glassware taken care of, avoiding Methos's legs… and Methos did make a bit more a path for him.

"The same. Just as vicious a son of a jackal as ever in a fight, but no match for Duncan," Methos answered. "We didn't even have to rig it that way. Itaja thought it would be a good idea to slaughter what he perceived as my student before challenging me." That was bothering Methos, Joe could tell, but he would wait to ask about it, once more of the alcohol vanished.

"Are there any old ones out there that don't hate you or just have a sadistic streak a mile wide?"

"I'd opine that it would be at least a league wide in many cases, and no. Not that I know of." Methos took another swallow of the bottle, then looked up at Joe. "Want a bit before I polish it off?"

"Go ahead, though you might want to hurry up; I want to get home in time to catch some of the game." The invitation hung in the air, but Methos didn't seem to pick up on it right away.

"You and your ritualized, infantile combat mockeries," Methos said, but he went back to draining the bottle down. "Care if I use one of the rooms?" he asked, proving Joe's observation about Methos being caught up inside his own head over this encounter.

Joe glanced down at Methos, then snorted. "I have better alcohol than this privileged horse piss you and Duncan give me at my place. Why don't you come home with me tonight?" he asked, hoping it was enough incentive.

Methos brightened at that invitation. "You have a deal. I won't even mock your sports teams drastically."

"I'll believe that when I hear it," Joe commented wryly.

* * *

There had not been too much hassle over the game, as Methos availed himself of the alcohol that had been promised. Eventually, as Joe was engrossed in the game, and the alcohol had been good enough to let Methos feel warm and comfortable, the Immortal stretched out on the couch, his head on Joe's thigh.

Joe glanced down when a soft snore interrupted a commercial with talking frogs, and had to smile slightly. He and Methos weren't shy about physical comforts, or about taking refuge in each other, but they also didn't tempt fate by living together.

That made moments like these all the more special, tiny treasures to lock away inside his soul, Joe decided. He would finish the game, let Methos finish the nap, and then… well, he doubted Methos would sleep through him trying to get to bed.

Nor was he wrong; the moment he switched off the television, Methos's eye opened.

"Why don't you go return the scotch you finished off, while I make sure we're locked up?" Joe suggested.

"That was scotch? No wonder my tongue feels like sandpaper," Methos teased lightly, but he rolled to his feet like a cat and went to handle matters. Joe pushed up, let himself get his balance again, and then moved to check the door and windows, a nightly routine made more important by Methos being here. After all, if one elder Immortal had come hunting, they had to take precautions. Sometimes the old ones still moved in pairs, or had loyal students or even enemies that deemed the killers worthy of head-hunting.

Or maybe Joe was just feeling a little more paranoid than usual. He snorted at himself and made his way to the bathroom, as Methos had already vacated it, and cleaned up for the night, stripping down to just his boxers while in there. Heading to the bedroom, he was not displeased to see Methos already in the bed, on the correct side so it didn't interfere with Joe's mobility or access to his nightstand.

"Come here often?" Methos asked cheekily, leading to Joe shaking his head. 

"Reading cheesy romances to pass the time now?"

"Well, when you're bored, sometimes the old formulas work best." Methos settled against the headboard until Joe was settled in the bed, then eyed the prosthetics.

"You think they're coming off when you just had a damned fight with a two thousand year old punk?"

"Put it that way, I supposed not," Methos said. "And Itaja wasn't a punk; he was a soldier with an exceptional skill in getting his way," he added before tucking in along Joe's side.

"Follower or other?" Joe asked, now that the conversation was open.

"Follower, lover, confidante, more?" Methos admitted wistfully. "Last time we had parted, though, was on good terms. I thought he was my friend, and to find him avidly seeking me to take my head makes me fear I have remained too long in one life again."

Joe did not hold tighter to his friend and lover at those words. Methos disappearing in and out of his life was the normal thing. The idea of Methos not reappearing was troubling, but possibly inevitable, no matter how deluded Joe liked to be about believing the Immortal would still be there when he no longer was.

"Maybe the years just got to be too much," he offered by way of comfort.

"Perhaps. Or perhaps he had a bad run of luck, and acquired a taste for the Game that I will never share," Methos said morosely. 

"None of that. Don't waste the alcohol you already drained away by falling into the gloomies," Joe chided him.

"You're right. And it was bound to happen, no matter what, as more of these younger idiots pretend the world is coming to an end in a cataclysmic Game finale."

"There's my beautiful skeptic," Joe said with a laugh.

Methos propped up on his elbow, looking down at Joe's face, half-smiling. "You complain about me reading romances and then call me beautiful? How droll."

"Shut up and kiss me, if you want a classic line," Joe said, moving to make that easier. Fortunately, Methos was willing to take that order to heart, his many centuries' of experience coming to bear on the moment. When the kiss broke, Methos was smirking, and Joe was halfway to heaven.

"You're actually quite lovely yourself, my dear friend, when you're just starting to arouse, and hungering for more of what we can share," Methos told him, tracing fingers through the black and silver trail of chest hair, adding to Joe's pleasure in the moment.

"We're not getting into a compliment war," Joe told him with amusement. "I think Amanda's the only one that can keep up with your ability to use language to your advantage."

"She's still a novice," Methos countered before moving up over Joe, with Joe's full cooperation, for more than words.

* * *

Joe slowly woke, looking at the other side of the bed, unsurprised to find the space vacated, smoothed out as if no one had been there at all. He wondered if Methos was gone from their lives, for a time, forever, or what as he decided he should just get up and go get cleaned up for the day.

He stepped out of his bedroom, fresh clothes over his shoulder, and paused in the doorway at the sounds from his kitchen. A smile touched his face as he heard Methos moving around, a song in some language Joe could not place right away on his lips.

Maybe Methos was done running. Or maybe it didn't suit him to do so in this moment. Joe head to the shower, making it a short one, while counting himself lucky in this. There might be moments when he wanted to strangle the Immortal, but it was a comfortable thing they shared.


End file.
